“The cards advised it,” Tabitha explained, looking just a bit uncomfortable in a plain white cotton blouse paired with black slacks. Her thick, chestnut-colored hair hung simply, one side pinned away from her face with a plain barrette. “I think of it as a kind of creative cleansing,” she added. “A way of clearing the path to new possibilities. I hope your customers will understand.”
“I’m sure they will,” Callie said, intrigued to see the real Tabitha for the first time.
“They had advice for you, too,” Tabitha added.
“They?”
“The cards. I did a reading on you—you know, because of your burglar.”
“Okay … ” Callie said, not sure how she felt about that but willing to listen. “What kind of advice?”
Tabitha’s face turned solemn. “They warn that you should be very cautious about any new friends right now.”
Callie digested that for a moment. “The only problem is that everyone here in Keepsake Cove is new to me.”
Tabitha dismissed that difficulty with a head shake. “It might not be clear right now, but in my experience what the cards tell me is usually spot-on. I’d take it very seriously.”
Callie could see that Tabitha certainly did. “Then I will, Tabitha. It would help if a name were given, or even an initial.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Just think hard about any new friends you’ve made or might soon make.”
Callie didn’t have to think too hard about Delia, Brian, or Annie. She was sure they’d pass the “card” test. Tabitha, too, of course. Was Jonathan Harman becoming a friend? More of an acquaintance, she felt, or friendly customer, though he’d shown himself to be very thoughtful. Did the cards think she needed to be cautious of him? Hard to imagine.
Karl Eggers certainly wasn’t on the friends list, and Callie had no idea what that meant as far as the cards were concerned. Were they saying she needn’t be cautious with him? Then there was Elvin Wilcox, who was in another category altogether. She’d met several of the Keepsake Cove shopkeepers, who couldn’t be called friends yet but might eventually be. Callie thought she’d always been reasonably careful with new people, though admittedly under simpler circumstances in the past. Now she was very much on her own, stepping into Aunt Mel’s life, in effect. And Aunt Mel’s sudden and mysterious death, along with other events, had put her pretty much on edge. Being cautious, therefore, was a given.
Tabitha had gone back to the office to unpack a new order of music boxes when a large, dark-skinned woman dressed in a flowing red dress came into the shop.
“What’s this I hear about a burglary? Are you all right?” A multi-colored scarf, wrapped once around her neck, hung gracefully below her hips. She looked Callie over from head to toe before circling rapidly through the shop and answering her own question. “Everything looks in good shape. Excellent!”
“Um, have we met?”
The intense expression left the woman’s round face as she laughed heartily. “I forgot! We almost met that day you came to visit Mel. It was all she talked about, and when I saw your car with those West Virginia plates parked out front, I almost stopped in. But then my husband texted me to hurry back, that we had a flood of customers. So what could I do?” She laughed heartily but then grew solemn. “I was at the funeral. But I know how that goes. Am I right?” she asked kindly, and Callie nodded silently.
“Orlena Martin,” the woman said, first holding out a hand but then engulfing Callie in a great hug instead. When she released her, she pointed down the street from the Keepsake Café, in the direction Callie hadn’t visited yet. “Treasured Boxes. You have boxes with music. I have boxes to fill with treasures. But they’re wonderful treasures in themselves. Come see them. You will be amazed.”
“You will, Callie!” Tabitha called out from the office. “Hi, Orlena.”
“There you are!” Orlena cried. “I wondered. And what are you today?”
Tabitha stepped into the office doorway, her box cutter in hand. “Today’s a rest day. The cards called for it.”
“Aha. Rest is good.” Orlena’s smile was understanding, and Callie liked this new acquaintance, pretty sure that Tabitha’s cards would approve, too. “I didn’t hear about your burglar until this morning at the café,” Orlena said to Callie. “My husband and I were off all day yesterday searching for new treasure boxes, or I would have been here first thing.”
“So you don’t live behind your shop?”
Orlena grinned. “That little dollhouse? You haven’t seen my husband or you wouldn’t ask. No, we need space. So, what was your burglar after?”
“That’s a good question. Since he never made it in, I can only guess,” Callie said, not anywhere near ready to share her wild guess of a murderer returning to the scene. “Howard Graham of Christmas Collectibles suggested vandals, but I don’t know. There was only one person. I had the idea that vandals worked in groups.”
Orlena frowned. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But vandals like to cause destruction for their own idea of fun. That means noise. Lots of noise. If they have half a brain—and who knows if they do?—they would know they’d wake the town.”
“This person was definitely being quiet.”
“So what told you he was there?”
Callie hesitated, aware of Tabitha listening for the answer. “I’m a light sleeper, and so is Aunt Mel’s cat,” she answered.
“Oh, Jagger! I’m so glad you kept him, and it sounds like he has repaid you for your kindness. Well, happily there was no harm done then, right?”
“Right.”
Orlena gave Callie a second great hug and turned to leave. “I will post on the Keepsake Cove website that we should all be extra alert.”
“Has this kind of thing happened much in the Cove?” Callie asked, following Orlena to the door.
“Not at all. Our little community has been very peaceful and crime-free. Perhaps because we’re tucked away here on the Eastern Shore, which is not so highly populated, you know? The people who are here have been around for generations—the watermen, the farmers—and by and large they are good people. Or it’s people who have retired here from the cities across the bridge and tend to behave themselves. Of course, we draw vacationers on their way to and from the beaches. But they’re looking for fun and relaxation, aren’t they?” Orlena frowned. “That’s why what happened is so shocking. We’re just not used to this kind of thing.”
Me neither, Callie thought.
“Were you at the association meeting?” she asked aloud, not remembering having seen Orlena there.
“No,” Orlena said. “I keep in touch with what I need to through the website. I don’t enjoy squabbles.”
“Do you mean over the long-term treasurer?”
“Exactly.”
“Does that mean you’re okay with Duane Fletcher’s handling of the group’s finances?”
“No, my dear, it does not. But sometimes,” she said, “it is wiser to be silent.” With that enigmatic comment, Orlena swept out the door, leaving behind a puzzled Callie, who turned to Tabitha for help.
“That’s just Orlena,” Tabitha said with a shrug. “She likes drama. She might say more on the subject in time, but it’ll take work.”
Callie thought that Orlena’s sudden reticence seemed a sharp contrast to the outgoing liveliness she’d first demonstrated. Was she hiding something? If it had anything to do with Duane and Aunt Mel’s conflict, Callie wanted to know about it. But how would she go about prying it out?
•
At lunchtime, Callie left Tabitha at the shop and headed over to Kids at Heart. She’d decided to talk to Bill and Laurie about Duane Fletcher, since it was Laurie who’d first brought up the controversy over him. She hoped Laurie might have more to share.
The day had grown quite warm, with the humidity inching the air toward stifling, and Callie was gl
ad she’d put on a sleeveless cotton dress that morning. Hank had once described its color as “Pepto Bismol pink,” and this snide remark had kept her from wearing it much back in Morgantown. She smiled, thinking that choosing the dress that day without a second thought was a very positive sign.
She passed by several shoppers fanning themselves, sipping giant iced drinks, or dealing with dripping ice cream cones, and when she stepped into Kids at Heart, the rush of air conditioned air, even after her short walk, was a wonderful relief. Bill and Laurie were talking with a man near the back of the shop, who Callie assumed was a customer until she recognized Howard Graham, the shopkeeper from the day before who’d been upset over her almost-burglary. He looked a little less colorless this time, wearing a printed shirt tucked into his gray slacks. But the blue in the print was pale and barely stood out over a dingy white background. Howard, himself, seemed as agitated as he’d been when she’d met him.
Laurie waved her over, ready to start introductions until she saw that Callie and Howard knew each other. “We were just counting up the members who would support us in getting an audit,” she said. “Are you in?”
“An audit on the association’s books?”
“It’s the only way,” Laurie said. “Duane has years’ worth of record books. None of us has the time or expertise to examine all of them, and he knows that.”
“Hiring someone would be expensive,” Bill said.
“But it could put a plug on future loss,” Howard piped up. “Who knows how much might have already gone missing?”
“Might is the operative word,” Bill said.
“Oh, Bill,” his wife said, rubbing his shoulder. “Can you really overlook his lavish lifestyle and—”
“Lavish lifestyle?” Bill laughed. “I haven’t noticed any diamond pinky rings or champagne-filled Jacuzzis on his premises.”
Laurie bit back a smile. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. We can estimate pretty closely what all our shops here in Keepsake Cove bring in—some a little more, some a little less. We’re all making a living, but nobody, other than Duane, is taking round-the-world vacations or buying new cars every year.”
“He’s single, Laurie. Fewer expenses,” Bill argued, though somewhat weakly.
“We should get an audit,” Howard said. “That way we’ll know for sure.”
“Is it the expense that’s stopping you?” Callie asked.
Laurie nodded. “It will have to be voted on. Duane has plenty of friends who’ll vote against it. The same ones who want him to remain as treasurer. We’ll need votes for our side. Can we count on you, Callie?’
Callie hesitated. “I’m a newcomer to this, Laurie. I know my aunt started the whole thing, but from what I understand, she only proposed limiting the treasurer’s term.”
“Which was obviously because she thought Duane should be removed.”
“Not so obviously, honey,” Bill said. “It was just a proposal for the association’s rules.”
“I’m wondering if Duane’s having such supportive friends says a lot about him? I mean, as far as his trustworthiness?” Callie asked.
Laurie shook her head firmly. “The man’s a world-class schmoozer. You met him. Didn’t he come across as your new best friend?”
“Well … ”
“Right. It works on a lot of people. It’s how con men work.”
“That’s exactly right,” Howard said. “And I don’t want a con man handling my money!”
Bill sighed but appeared to give up. Laurie and Howard looked at Callie expectantly.
“Let me think on it a bit,” she said, and saw their disappointment.
“Don’t take too long,” Howard said. “We need to plug this hole! I don’t intend to finance another trip to Tahiti unless it’s my own!”
Bill groaned, and Callie figured it was time to take off. She promised to get back to them soon. Once out the door, she pulled out her cell phone. The mention of Tahiti had reminded her to check for an answering email from her mother. But all she found were spam emails about online dating and digestive aids. Since she was interested in neither, she tucked the phone away, looked around, and thought about what to do next.
Sixteen
After wandering up and down the street in the hot sun, growing warmer but not in regards to finding what she was searching for, Callie finally stopped a cheerful-looking woman with a Keepsake Cove shopping bag over her arm and asked if she knew where the glass collectibles shop was.
“You mean Glorious Glass?” The woman set down her bag, handed a large drink cup to Callie to hold, and rummaged through her large purse, finally pulling out a wrinkled Keepsake Cove brochure that located all the shops on a map. “Here’s where we are,” she said, pointing with a sparkly painted nail, “and here’s where you want to go.” She traced a dark line until it turned right, off the main street. “You can’t miss it.”
Callie thanked her and took off, finding the shop easily with the map she now had in her head. The window of Glorious Glass glittered with all things imaginable made of glass, in every shape, size, and color. Callie gazed, her head spinning as she thought of needing to keep track of such a vast inventory. Her music boxes were hard enough, but their size kept their numbers far lower than Duane Fletcher’s.
She saw Duane through the window, sitting alone behind his counter, and hesitated, unsure exactly what she hoped to accomplish by being there. Then he looked up and spotted her and waved for her to come in. She headed for the door.
“Welcome, welcome to my little shop,” Duane said as he bounced up. “Nothing so grand as yours, of course, but I’m proud of it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Callie said, blinking as the overhead lights reflected off the countless glass figurines, candy dishes, perfume bottles, and vases. “Glorious indeed!”
Duane beamed. “The name comes from my mother, Gloria. It was her love of all things glass that started it all. She amassed a wonderful collection. When she died, it just made sense to bring it all here and carry on in her memory.”
“That’s similar to the beginnings of House of Melody.”
“Mel and I talked about that. And we’re not the only ones. Most of the shopkeepers here in the Cove have turned their personal collections into a business. It’s wonderful to get paid for working at something you love.”
“It is, as long as it can support you.”
“Of course. And I’ve been very fortunate in that. Very fortunate. But,” he said, lowering his voice although there was no one around to hear, “it’s also drawn a bit of envy, I’m afraid.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “It’s to be expected, I suppose, though it hurts. I’ve worked hard at my business and reaped the rewards. I’ve also tried to do my bit by pitching in with the Keepsake Cove Association, and believe me, the treasurer’s job is time-consuming, tedious work. But I’ve been happy to do it, to help out, you know? But doing for others, I’ve found, can turn around and bite you.” He brightened. “But never mind! You’re not here to listen to my little problems. Tell me, how are you settling in?”
Since Duane didn’t ask about her burglary attempt, Callie assumed he hadn’t heard about it yet, and she decided not to mention it. Instead, she talked about the customers and inventory she was getting to know. It was nothing terribly fascinating, but she saw—and enjoyed—the same intense interest from Duane that she’d experienced at the association meeting. But his bringing up the controversy over his treasurer-ship surprised her, vague though it had been. Duane had seemed genuinely hurt by it, but she couldn’t help wondering if that was one of the ways he’d gained sympathetic supporters. Had he been enticing her to join that group, or was he truly a wronged innocent?
The shop phone rang, and Duane excused himself to answer it. Callie turned to browse through his collectibles as he did so, only half-overhearing until she caught the words �
�cruise” and “Mediterranean.” At that point Duane said “hold on” and punched a button on his phone before setting the receiver back in its cradle. He then hurried to a back room, and Callie heard only murmurs as he apparently continued the conversation on another extension. If he was planning a nice trip, as it had sounded, Callie could well imagine how Howard Graham would react to that.
Duane returned in a couple of minutes without explanation, and his eyes went to the butterfly paperweight that Callie had picked up to admire.
“Lovely, isn’t it? You have excellent taste,” he said. “It comes from Greece. I love the colored glass of the wings and the tiny bubbles in the globe it’s resting on. Would you like it?”
“Um … ” Callie hesitated, appreciating the piece but not having thought in that direction.
“I don’t mean to buy. I meant as my gift.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”
Duane raised a hand to stop her. “I’d love for you to have it. It’ll be my ‘welcome to the Cove’ gift. A sadly belated one.” He took the delicate piece from her and carried it to his counter, where he quickly slid out a box and packing materials.
Callie followed, surprised but also pleased. Though the paperweight wasn’t outrageously expensive, it was an unexpected and thoughtful gesture.
“Thank you,” she said when he handed the box to her. She lingered a few more minutes to chat before taking off, smiling and cradling her new treasure. It wasn’t until she got back to House of Melody and saw Tabitha dealing with one customer while two others browsed through the shop that Callie realized no one else had entered Glorious Glass the entire time she was there.
•
Once things quieted in the shop, Callie unpacked her glass butterfly to show Tabitha, who oohed and ahhed but then said, “I hope you’re paying attention to the warning about making new friends.”
“No worries. I’m still in the getting-to-know-you mode.”
“Okay then.” Tabitha turned the paperweight over carefully in her hands for one last examination, then set it back on the counter. “Nice of Duane,” she said. “Mel had one, you know. A paperweight, I mean. Not of glass, and not a butterfly. It looked like a souvenir from someplace. Some kind of historic building or house.”
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